


In Hand

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd threatened him with it so many times, there was no way Stiles could have expected it to actually happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hand

He’d threatened him with it so many times—well spanking his disobedient ass or ripping his throat out for some imagined misdemeanour—that Stiles felt he could be forgiven for not expecting it to ever happen. For God’s sake, he was a grown man of nineteen—he didn’t expect to have Derek Hale stomp through his bedroom window and literally throw him over his lap. 

Any hopes that his jeans would protect him from the force of the blows were crushed when the first slaps landed—Derek had fucking massive, **heavy** hands and it felt like the entirety of one ass cheek was damn near obliterated when one of those hands landed. He’d been thrown by Derek’s actions which was why he didn’t react, didn’t struggle much apart from the initial flailing of his arms as he was upended. By the time he even thought to struggle, it was too late because it felt like he even _he_ could smell how aroused he was. Of course, it wasn’t helped by the solid feel of Derek’s thighs, the way the muscled length of them was tensed to hold him up. He couldn’t help it if he had a bit of a thing for Derek’s thighs—just strong, thick, muscled and well, yeah. One huge hand was now at the base of his spine, the palm warm and reassuring whilst confining him at the same time. Strange that there was something so freeing about being confined. 

He was babbling—he could hear a never-ending stream of nonsense leaving his mouth—but it didn’t stop Derek at all. Slow, steady, methodically covering every inch of each cheek—slap, slap, slap. And beneath that noise he could hear Derek growling—a low level, constant that didn’t sound anything like when Derek was angry or enraged or throwing himself into battle. Stiles could feel that the growl came from deep in Derek’s chest, the vibrations moving up through his throat. 

“Never doing as you’re told – always throwing yourself into things without thinking – putting yourself in danger – “More words like that but Stiles got the underlying theme—Derek and Derek’s wolf definitely did **not** appreciate Stiles continually putting himself in danger. 

It took him a few moment to realise the spanking had stopped. His ears were ringing and his ass was throbbing. Not as much as his dick though. His cock was fighting against the constraints of his jeans, desperate to escape and his hips seemed to have developed a mind of their own, grinding in a frantic rhythm as he worked himself against Derek’s thigh.

“Fuck, this gets you off doesn’t it? Is this the way to get you to do as you’re told?” That voice that dark velvet voice sounded surprised and aroused, and Stiles wanted to hear more from it. Much more. “I wonder if you’d object to me doing this.”

‘This’ was a claw slicing through his belt and the waistband of his jeans right before Derek used ONE HAND to lift Stiles enough that he could yank the jeans and boxers down in a wrenching move that mirrored the reaction in Stiles’ stomach. Just one hand. It was a major turn on—all that strength, the ripples of his biceps as he worked to strip Stiles until his jeans and boxers were around his ankles imprisoning just that little bit more in his facedown position in Derek’s lap. 

“Stiles?” He couldn’t form a word but he did manage a gurgle that could pass as a response if one were so inclined. Derek was obviously so inclined. “You need to tell me if you want me to stop because this has gone way past what I intended. Just—nod if you’re okay with this.” 

A dark chuckle greeted his nodding dog impression but he couldn’t bring himself to care because Derek’s hand was back on his ass. It felt deliciously cool against the heated cheeks and Stiles found that he was wriggling uncontrollably, sighing in satisfaction when Derek spread his thighs and Stiles could shift and wriggle enough that his dick was once more pressed against the rough denim. And that might have been a whimper when Derek closed his legs, trapping the throbbing length of Stiles’ cock between those muscular thighs and giving him something solid to rub himself off against.

“Your skin is so red. Goddamn, I can see the outline of my handprint on your ass and I cannot tell you just how much I like it. Fuck Stiles, I can feel you rubbing off on me—do you really like this? Like it when I do this?” That huge hand squeezed his ass cheek, somehow seeming to concentrate all that heat and red-good-pain until it turned into sparking white behind his eyes and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from rutting harder. This was fucking unreal—he could barely breathe, gasps and pants all he could manage as he got closer and closer to coming. Just from this—from Derek slapping his ass and squeezing his thighs around his cock. “You do. You’re close aren’t you—I can smell it. Your dick is leaking on my jeans and your heart is racing. Want me to finish you off? Huh? What do you want Stiles? What do you _need_?” 

“I—please, Derek, I – “ He couldn’t find the words. **HE** couldn’t find words. The slap landed before he could disappear into his head trying to figure out what the hell was going on and just that, the feel of Derek’s hand landing on his bare ass was enough. He threw back his head and screamed, his orgasm slamming through his body like a freight train as his cock kicked and pulsed, come spurting all over Derek’s denim-clad thighs. Stiles felt so wrecked—his throat was raw, his limbs like jelly and his ass was throbbing, the pain exacerbated by Derek pushing him off of his lap so that he landed on his ass on the floor. 

Completely disorientated, head down and lungs working overtime, Stiles tried to get his brain back online. He felt like a jumbled mess, his feet entangled in his jeans and sneakers, his ass aching. He flinched as Derek got to his feet, eyes wide as they travelled from Derek’s legs to his groin where the evidence of Derek’s arousal was obvious and **big**. Impressed and more than a little scared, Stiles looked up past Derek’s waist and impressive chest, all the way up past the wide shoulders and heavily stubbled chin to the green eyes looking down at him. It was kinda hard to read Derek’s face but he didn’t _look_ pissed off or angry—he had no right to be if he was because he was 100% responsible for Stiles shooting his load all over his legs. And that was when Stiles recognised the look on Derek’s face—he looked in charge. In charge of himself, the situation and _Stiles_ in a way he had never truly been in charge of the pack when he had been Alpha. Stiles was stuck for words, not sure what to say or do—this was not a Derek he was used to dealing with, however much he was enjoying the change. But then Derek spoke and he realised that he didn’t need to speak or plan or figure out what to do. Because Derek was in charge. 

“On your knees—you got yours, now I’m gonna get mine.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Could be seen as dubious consent as they don't talk things through beforehand.
> 
> Come play with me over on tumblr at [s k manganelli](http://skmanganelli.tumblr.com) if you like and feel free to send/leave me prompts!


End file.
